


A tap on the glass

by Beleriandings



Series: In the midst of the innumerable stars [3]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space, Family, Gen, Ghosts, Halloween 2015 on Tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-08
Updated: 2015-11-08
Packaged: 2018-04-30 15:13:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 950
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5168525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An eclipse period is always a time to tell ghost stories and try to scare each other, but one day Idril says something that takes Aredhel and Turgon by surprise.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A tap on the glass

The ship was passing through eclipse, and they were running on back-up power. But, thought Aredhel, at least now there was a certain security in knowing exactly when they would pass  _out_  of the darkness and back into the brilliant light of Anar.

It had not always been so; when they had passed through the great Helcaraxë Cloud that separated the Beleriand system from the Valinor system - filled with icy objects and comets in unpredictable orbits, and too far from the light to run on anything but the ships’ radioisotope thermal generator arrays - she had felt worry nagging at her all the time.

There were other reasons why the cruel journey through the Helcaraxë Cloud remained a memory she did not wish to dwell on, of course.  _Elenwë, the impact-battered hull of the ship, the damaged airlock_ …

She squashed the thought down, as she so often did, for the sake of Turgon and Idril.

Her brother and niece, at least in this moment, seemed happy, and she would not let herself take that from them. Not here, and not now.

Here in the Beleriand system, the eclipse that came from passing by a giant planet was no longer a time for fear, unless it was the delicious kind that came with scary stories in the half-darkness.

“And then” said Aredhel, holding the emergency hand-torch beneath her chin to cast her features in stark contrast, “she heard a tapping on the ship’s window.”

Idril gasped, wrapping the blanket closer about herself as Turgon, at the last moment, caught the mug of hot chocolate on the gridded metal floor in front of her, before it spilled. “But she just checked!” said the girl. “And none of the space suits were logged out!”

Aredhel nodded, shooting Turgon a quick grin as they both watched Idril squeal at the story, as the lights of the distant stars - away from the galactic centre - unfolded before them, the lights of the console blinking softly in counterpoint. “And she had thought she was alone on the ship, too. But she could hear a tapping on the glass…”

“Like the ones I hear in the night?” asked Idril suddenly, her small face quizzical.

Turgon frowned, looking troubled. “What do you mean, little one?”

“I hear a tapping at night” said Idril, matter-of-factly. “I think it’s Mother.”

All the air seemed to go out of Aredhel’s lungs at that, and she glanced quickly at Turgon, whose face was frozen, eyes fixed on his daughter. Aredhel let the torch fall a little bit, so that it was no longer illuminating her face. “You think it's…”

“I  _know_  it’s mother” said Idril, nodding seriously. She seemed entirely untroubled by the idea, and she even smiled. “She comes to see me, you know. At night.”

“Itarillë…” Turgon’s voice was hesitant, half cracking, as he wrapped his arms tighter about his daughter. “You must know… your mother…” he couldn’t seem to continue.

Idril nodded. “She fell from the broken airlock trying to save me, yes, I know. She wasn’t wearing a spacesuit at the time. I always feel sad for her; she must be dreadfully cold. But she doesn’t seem to be. She… she talks to me, sometimes, when there’s no one else around.”

Aredhel opened her mouth, taking a sip of her own drink to steady herself, taking Idril’s small hands in her own. She barely knew how to proceed, glancing at Turgon, who nodded weakly. “Can… can you tell me… what does she say to you, little one?”

“She says she loves me, and she misses me. She seems sad” said Idril, suddenly troubled. “She says she loves Daddy too, and you, Auntie.” Idril looked between Turgon and Aredhel, taking their hands in her own and joining them between her own small, warm ones. “She says she wishes she could be here to stop you being sad.”

Aredhel let out a soft sound and realised there were tears in her eyes; glancing at her brother, she saw the sparkle mirrored on his own cheeks, lit by the bright white glow of the torch.

At that moment, the light broke over their faces, arcing in slatted segments through the wide window in the observation deck. Idril reached up to wipe the tears from Turgon’s cheeks. “Don’t be sad, Daddy” she said, curling closer to him, apparently quite unworried. “She may be gone, but she’s still there.”

Later, when Idril had gone to bed, wrapped snug in blankets in her bunk, Aredhel and Turgon sat side by side at the controls, both gazing out into space.

“She’s imagining things” said Turgon, his voice heavy. “She… she must be imagining things. It’s how children deal with loss. I read that in a book, once.”

Aredhel nodded, half to convince herself, as the child’s words rang in her ears. “Yes, certainly.”

“She misses her mother, and she thinks she hears her voice.” He put his face in his hands. “I just wish…” Aredhel could hear his voice become thick with tears. “Itarillë is such a lonely child. This is my fault… if things had been different… if Elenwë…”

“I know” said Aredhel, taking his hands in her own. She could think of nothing else to say. Her brother’s hands were cold from leaning against the cool metal console, and she tried to lend him a bit of her warmth. She struggled to keep the catch from her own voice as she leaned her head against his shoulder, letting his warmth and solidity comfort her as it had when they were children and she had fallen asleep with her head leaning in the crook of his arm, as he had read stories to her. “I know.”


End file.
